


One Road, Two Roads, Strange Roads, Crossroads

by sinfulslasher (Gaby)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Case Fic, Gen, Humor, Supernatural Reverse Big Bang Challenge 2015
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-09
Updated: 2016-02-09
Packaged: 2018-05-19 09:00:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5961664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gaby/pseuds/sinfulslasher
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean has seen a lot of weird stuff in his time, but a seahorse with an actual horse's head and spiders in someone's brain? He really doesn't know why he let Sam talk him into investigating this case... And that's when things start to get <i>really</i> weird.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Road, Two Roads, Strange Roads, Crossroads

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the [SPN RBB](http://spn_reversebang.livejournal.com/), based on the absolutely brilliant art by [sophiap](http://sophiap.livejournal.com/) \- I had so much fun coming up with something for your incredibly inspiring art, and then collaborating with you and seeing the additional pieces you came up with. I had a blast! Thank you so much for making my first time writing for the SPN RBB such a wonderful experience! :D Her art masterpost can be found [here](http://sophiap.livejournal.com/285738.html) \- everyone, please go and leave glowing feedback!
> 
> Please note that I've taken a lot of liberties with where this story takes place. Springfield, Massachussetts exists and is the birthplace of Theodor Geisel (Dr. Seuss), but other than the Dr. Seuss National Memorial Sculpture Garden that is mentioned in the story, everything else is made up.
> 
> Beta by Elrhiarhodan and Theatregirl7299 - thank you, ladies!
> 
> Warning: There is mention of infidelity and spreading of STDs as well as mention of animal torture in this story.
> 
> If you feel you need to know what other character is featured, please scroll to the very end of the story. (SPOILERY!)
> 
> Disclaimer: Not mine, never were, never will be, gosh darn it! This also and especially goes for any and all mention of Dr. Seuss' characters. No infringement is intended--I'd like to think I'm paying homage to the man's brilliant creations.

 

[ ](http://ic.pics.livejournal.com/sinfulslasher/6185781/482404/482404_original.jpg)  


Dean was enthusiastically belting along to Lynyrd Skynyrd's "Simple Man" when he was--quite rudely, he found--interrupted by Sam's exclamation of, "Dude, that's so awesome!"

Narrowing his eyes slightly, Dean still turned down the volume a little so they could talk about whatever had Sam so excited, but his brother was completely engrossed in what he was reading on his laptop and paid him absolutely no attention at all.

After waiting a few more seconds, Dean finally lost his patience. "Okay, fine, I'll bite. Hit me, Sammy. What's so awesome?"

Sam looked up, frowning in confusion. "Huh?" Then he realized that Dean was apparently waiting for some kind of explanation. "Wait. Did I say that out loud?"

"Seriously, dude?" Dean reached for the volume again. "I'm perfectly happy to entertain myself."

"No, no. Wait." Sam smacked Dean's hand away from the radio. "This _is_ awesome." He tapped his laptop. "There's another death and it fits right into our case."

Dean held up his hand. "I still say there's no case. We have one guy who died because his heart was too big and gave out on him and another guy who claims he got attacked by a gigantic seahorse while swimming in a lake." He gave Sam a sideways glance. "A gigantic seahorse _with an actual horse's head_. Dude was smokin' something if you ask me."

"We have one dead body and one near fatality, both due to freak occurrences, both happening in the same town. This is more than a coincidence." Sam pointed at his laptop. "And now there's news of another freaky death."

"Enlighten me."

"Spiders in the brain."

Baby swerved dangerously when Dean gave a full body shudder. "Dude!" he exclaimed. "Ew! Gross!"

Sam shrugged. "That's what the newspaper says." He tapped his laptop again.

Dean continued to shake himself. "On a scale of disgusting to repulsive, this clocks in somewhere past nauseatingly revolting. And we've been hunting pretty damn hideous things all our lives, so that's sayin' something. To reiterate: eww!"

"Don't be such a wuss."

Dean gaped at his brother. "Spiders, Sam. In a brain." He waved at his head meaningfully. "Some nasty spider probably nested in the guy's ear or nose or something and laid eggs and..." He shuddered again at the mere thought.

"That's not how this works. I thought you knew better than to believe in stupid urban legends."

"We've ganked a whole bunch of urban legends. They're real, dude. Just like spiders. How else do you explain this?" He waved at Sam's laptop.

Sam just shrugged. "Guess we're gonna have to talk to the pathologist to find out."

"Aw man." Dean pulled a face. "Does that mean we have to dress up as Feds again?"

"Of course." Sam gave his brother a sideways glance. "We _are_ working a case, you know? We'd play G-men either way."

"Yeah but I was hopin' to just go and grab a burger and a beer when we arrive. Not worry about badges until tomorrow."

"Well, just think about it, Dean. When we're at the morgue, maybe you get to hold a gigantic heart." Sam smirked.

Dean just glowered and turned up the volume again.

*****

Dean wondered, not for the first time, why he had allowed Sam to talk him into this trip. Weird-ass deaths were one thing, spiders in the brain of dead people something else entirely.

And then there was the receptionist in their motel. While Sam was still busy packing up his laptop and getting their bags out of Baby's trunk, Dean had volunteered to get them a room. So he walked into the motel's office, prepared to charm whoever was manning the station into giving him a discount, only to discover that the person was a young man with bright blue hair wearing a red jumpsuit with a big, white "1" across the front.

"Nice threads," was all Dean managed to mutter, torn between staring at the outfit or the hair.

"Thanks, lumberjack," the receptionist snarked back, giving Dean's plaid shirt a disdainful look. "Room for two?" He waggled his eyebrows, clearly having seen Sam hauling their stuff out of Baby's trunk.

Dean raised his chin defiantly. "Yeah, and make it two queens, not one king."

"I bet." The receptionist smirked and held out a key. "Room six. Enjoy your stay."

Dean entertained himself with the idea of killing the snarky guy ten different ways with a paperclip but refrained from commenting even further. He just walked out of the office and made a beeline for his brother. "I don't know what's wrong with this place, Sam, but I don't like it."

Sam frowned in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"Freak show." Dean shook his head and cast one last baleful look back at the office. Then he marched toward room six and unlocked the door.

Sam lugged their bags into the room, deciding to ignore his brother's weird mood. "So I called the morgue," he said conversationally. "Talked to the pathologist, a Dr. Wilson. He said if we hurry, we could meet him before he leaves for the day."

But Dean wasn't even listening. Instead, he was staring at the room divider that separated the small kitchenette from the sleeping area. "Dude, are those ducks? The hell?" He was used to strange decors in the motels they sometimes stayed in, and the wallpaper--and often enough also the room dividers--reflected the places they were visiting. Cowboy hats in Texas, horses in Wyoming, pine trees in Oregon or palm trees in Florida. But ducks?

Sam walked over to have a closer look. After a long moment, he grinned broadly. "Ducks? Seriously, Dean. They're Star-Belly Sneetches!"

"Star-Belly What?"

"Oh, come on. You know what Sneetches are."

Dean just stared blankly at his brother.

"You know." Sam waved at his own midsection. "Star-Belly. Or Plain-Belly." He gestured at the room divider. "Sneetches."

"Dude. Lay off the green smoothies."

Sam rolled his eyes. "The Sneetches are one of Dr. Seuss' many creations. You know, the Star-Belly Sneetches felt special because they had stars on their belly and shunned those without stars on their bellies until some guy, I forgot his name, appears and offers the Plain-Belly Sneetches to put stars on their bellies for three dollars. But then the Star-Belly Sneetches didn't feel special anymore and paid him ten dollars to remove their stars. This went on and on until none of the Sneetches remembered if they were originally star-bellied or plain-bellied. It was Dr. Seuss' satire of discrimination and racism. Remember?"

Dean continued to stare blankly. Finally he blinked and shook his head. "Dude, you're a freak."

"We're in Springfield, Massachusetts, Dean. Birthplace of Theodore Geisel, better known as Dr. Seuss." Sam waved at the Sneetches-decorated room divider. "Of course they'd try to cash in on his fame." He suddenly narrowed his eyes at Dean. "You do remember who Dr. Seuss is, right?"

Dean's eyes widened slightly. Memories came flooding back of him as a young boy reading Dr. Seuss' primers to his baby brother until Sam was able to read himself. Little Sammy had devoured Dr. Seuss' books. "If you start riffin' on the whole Sam-I-Am bit again, I'm gonna end you," he threatened. Then he narrowed his eyes right back at Sam. "Wait, did you haul me all across the country just so you could see this damn place?"

"We have a case here, Dean. Three fatalities."

"Two fatalities. The seahorse guy survived. And when we started our little trip, the freaky spider-brain dude wasn't dead yet. So. Confession time, Sammy."

"No." Sam gave his brother his best bitch face. "It's just a coincidence." They both knew that it was at least a partial lie, but Sam busied himself with unpacking his bag. "Dress up, Special Agent. We have an appointment with Mr. Spider Brain."

*****

Dean--or, more precisely, Special Agent Hendrix --tried his very best to stare at the gigantic heart in front of him. It looked freaky, was easily the size of a human's head, and weirded Dean out. But it was still so very much better to look at than the various jars full of dead spiders.

And so Dean focused on the heart, poking at it with his pen because he had nothing better to do and was kind of amused by the soft squishing sound it made. He kept telling himself that there were no spiders-filled jars within arm's reach.

Unfortunately, Sam was gushing on and on and _on_ about the damn spiders, completely engaged in a serious conversation with the pathologist.

"It was the darnest thing," Dean heard the pathologist say. "Bloodwork was fine, the organs were fine. I didn't find any wrong-doing, so I took a full body X-ray. That's when I found the spiders."

Sam oohed when he saw the X-ray image. Dean couldn't help himself and looked as well.

And instantly regretted it.

The skull was clearly visible. There was the brain. And spiders upon spiders upon spiders.

He shuddered and quickly turned back around to stare at the gigantic heart.

"Were the spiders still alive?" Sam asked curiously, picking up one of the jars and shaking it.

"No, they were all dead." The pathologist sounded sad. "When I opened the patient's skull, they just...toppled out."

Dean shuddered again at the mental image.

"But there are different species," Sam continued. "Big and small. So it couldn't have been some kind of freaky infestation?"

"No. This sort of thing is an urban legend. You can't get infested with spider eggs, just like you can't get pregnant by accidentally swallowing squid eggs. There is no logical or scientific explanation why this poor man had spiders in his brain."

Dean _really_ wanted to be done with this conversation. He sent Sam a slightly frantic look but his brother just smirked and jiggled a jar full of spiders in his direction.

"Okay, thanks." Dean didn't care if Sam had another billion questions he wanted to ask. He needed to get out of the morgue or he was going to scream. "You really helped us a lot, Dr. Wilson." Dean quickly shook the pathologist's hand and then shoved Sam toward the exit. "Come on, Agent Clapton. We have another witness to question before we can call it a night, remember?"

Sam barely managed to put the jar down before he was pushed none-too-gently through the doors. "What's wrong with you?" he asked, giving his brother a shove in retaliation.

"Spiders, Sam. Millions of dead spiders. That ain't my thing."

"You're ridiculous."

"Give me Wendigos or Skinwalkers or whatever the hell else goes bump in the night. But spiders? They have eight legs, Sam. Hairy legs. And tons of eyes." Dean wiggled his fingers around. "Creepy crawlies. Yeuch."

Sam just rolled his eyes and walked toward Baby. "Okay, fine. But at least now you know that your theory of spider egg infestation is wrong."

"Dude." Dean gave another full body shudder. "Can we stop talkin' about this?" He yanked Baby's door open and got in.

Sam followed suit, a slightly evil smirk on his lips.

Dean started the car but before he pulled out into traffic, he wagged a stern finger under Sam's nose. "And don't even _think_ about hiding a rubber spider in my bed."

Sam's face fell.

*****

Dean thought it couldn't get any worse after the spider thing, but of course fate decided to prove him wrong.

They went to interview the swimmer who had claimed to have been attacked by a giant seahorse, and Dean was sure that the guy had smoked some of the good stuff and the giant seahorse had been nothing but a hallucination.

As it turned out, Mario di Angelo was a down-to-earth, no-nonsense accountant at the local sporting goods store. It really couldn't get much more respectable than that.

"I know it sounds crazy," di Angelo said with an annoyed sigh. "I wouldn't believe me either if I were you."

"It's not that we don't believe you," Sam said, wearing his serious-but-compassionate face that usually got everyone to open up to him. "It just seems very unusual."

Di Angelo snorted. "Unusual? Please, Agent Clapton. It's fucking impossible. Pardon my French." He sighed again and shook his head. "But I swear, it happened.

"Can you give us a bit more information? Tell us in detail what happened?" Dean opened his note pad, ready to write down anything of importance.

"Well, I was actually fishing for a few hours though I didn't catch anything. Then I decided to take a quick swim before going home." Di Angelo scratched his chin. "Everything went well until I heard something splashing near me. I looked around but didn't see anything. The lake is pretty clear so I ducked under the water, hoping to see what was going on. And that's when it happened."

"The seahorse?" Sam asked.

Di Angelo nodded. "It was huge. I mean, at first I just saw the head and it was an actual horse's head. So I thought it was a horse that had ended up in the lake for some reason. There are farms nearby. It could've escaped or something." He shrugged. "But then it turned away and I saw the actual body and...and it was a seahorse." He buried his face in his hands.

Sam reached out to pat the man's shoulder. "You're doing really well, Mr. di Angelo. Take all the time you need."

Dean rolled his eyes at his brother's amateur therapist spiel. "And the seahorse was the size of an actual horse?"

Di Angelo nodded again. "I know it's impossible but I swear it's the truth. It was this gigantic abomination of nature." He spread his arms wide to show the seahorse's size. "And before I could react, it attacked me."

"Attack how?"

Di Angelo pulled up his sleeves and showed a couple of serious looking bite marks. Then he hesitated for a long moment before standing up and dropping his pants. Before Dean could protest or make a snarky remark, di Angelo turned around to show several large bruises along the back of his thighs. "The damn thing whipped me with its tail." Di Angelo pulled up his pants and sat back down again. "Agents, I swear on my mother's life that I'm telling you the truth."

Sam nodded. "The local police didn't believe you."

"They laughed at me and wanted me to take a drug test because they were convinced I was hallucinating."

Dean tried his best to hide the guilty look on his face. He might have been convinced of this very thing as well, but di Angelo's statement had changed his mind, loathe as he was to admit it. He cleared his throat. "Well, screw the local police," he muttered. "We believe you. Now, where exactly did you say this happened?"

"The lake is called McElligot's Pool. It's not far from here, actually. About two miles that way." Di Angelo waved in the general direction.

Dean's pen stopped scratching across his note pad. "Uh, how do you spell that?" He looked up at his brother, expecting him to take notes as well, but Sam had stopped writing. Instead, he stared straight ahead, a slight frown on his face. Dean knew that look. It usually didn't bode well. "Never mind. I'm sure we'll find it easily enough."

Di Angelo nodded. "You should. There are signs." He waved again.

"Great. Thanks." Dean stood up and pulled Sam up along with him. "Come on, Agent Clapton. Daylight's burning."

But when Dean finally managed to push his brother toward Baby, Sam told him to drive downtown.

"Why?" Dean started the engine and smiled at Baby's deep, rumbling roar. "Lake Whatchamacallit is thatta way." He pointed straight ahead.

"No. Turn around. I have a theory."

"And that theory is hiding downtown?" Dean asked sarcastically, though he still made a U-turn and drove in the direction Sam wanted.

"Something like that." Sam grinned, suddenly giddy. "I'll show you when we get there."

Dean gave his brother a sideways glance. "Weirdo," he muttered under his breath.

*****

[ ](http://ic.pics.livejournal.com/sinfulslasher/6185781/482705/482705_original.jpg)

Dean hadn't even completely parked the car when Sam jumped out and started walking down the street. Muttering under his breath, Dean tried his best to catch up with his brother.

"Dude, seriously. Not everyone's got gigantor legs like you. Try to be a little considerate here."

Sam didn't seem to listen, though. He was crossing the street and all but ran towards what Dean figured was some kind of park but turned out to be a sculpture garden. Sam stopped next to a sculpture and grinned broadly. Dean finally managed to catch up, bending over and breathing heavily.

"Dude. What the hell?"

Sam beamed happily, showing all of his dimples. Then he waved at the sculpture as if it held the answer to all mysteries of life and beyond.

Dean glanced at the sculpture. "Who's the weird lookin' dude?"

Sam's face fell. "Seriously, Dean?" He spread his arms wide in astonishment. "This is Dr. Seuss."

"Right." Dean was clearly unimpressed. Then he pointed at the sculpture next to Dr. Seuss. "Hey, I know that one. The Cat in the Hat." He looked at Sam. "What's that got to do with anything?"

"The case. It's all about Dr. Seuss and his books."

"Right." Dean scratched his head and gave Sam a disbelieving look.

"No, seriously. The two fatalities are straight out of How the Grinch Stole Christmas."

"Absolutely not. There are no deaths in the Grinch book." Dean remembered reading that particular book about a million times to Little Sammy. He had always made sure not to pick too violent books for his baby brother, wanting to preserve the boy's innocence for as long as possible.

"You're right. There were no actual deaths in the book. But I'm also right." Sam wore his "I'm so smart" grin that always made Dean want to smack him.

"Okay, Cindy Lou. Enlighten me."

Sam pulled a quick bitch face at the name but then launched into an excited explanation. "There are lines in the Grinch book that reflect the causes of death. _In Whoville they say that the Grinch's small heart grew three sizes that day._ And look how big the heart of victim one was. And then there's the famous _Your heart's an empty hole. Your brain is full of spiders. You've got garlic in your soul, Mr. Grinch. I wouldn't touch you with a thirty-nine and a half foot pole._ Brain. Full of spiders." Sam looked incredibly pleased with himself.

Dean, however, only had one question. "You know that damn book by heart? You're such a dork."

"I helped solve the case. If that makes me a dork, fine."

"What about di Angelo? There are no seahorses in the Grinch." Dean looked just as pleased with himself for remembering that tidbit of information.

"No, but Dr. Seuss wrote more than the Grinch, you know?"

"I do know. And I reiterate: You start riffin' on the whole Sam-I-Am thing again and I will end you."

Sam rolled his eyes. "There's a book called McElligot's Pool. It's about a boy named Marco who goes fishing in a small, trash-filled lake and gets laughed at for it. But he holds out hope that he'll catch something after all and starts imagining different creatures that could be living in the lake." Sam leaned in close. "Among other things, a seahorse with the head of an actual horse."

Dean blinked. "Wait. You're telling me there's some son of a bitch turning Dr. Seuss stories into horrible deaths? And evil creatures? And...stuff?" He waved one hand around.

"Sounds plausible."

"How is that even remotely plausible?"

"Well, as plausible as our line of work is." Sam shrugged.

Dean gave the Dr. Seuss sculpture a baleful look. "Think this thing is cursed? Maybe we should get the holy water or the rock salt or burn the damn thing or something?"

"No!" Sam looked outraged at the mere idea of Dean desecrating the sculpture and pulled his brother away.

"Well, how else are we supposed to find out who's responsible for all this? I say the sculpture is a damn good place to start."

"No!" Sam pushed Dean further away from the sculpture. "Shut up. Don't even think about it."

Dean allowed himself to be manhandled for a few more steps but then stopped on a dime. He grinned. "Hey, looks like we found the next clue. You." He waved at the sculpture they now stood in front of.

Sam looked up and saw a moose. "That's Thidwick the Big-Hearted Moose," he said with a haughty sniff. "He's one of my favorite Seuss characters."

Realizing that he wouldn't get a rise out of his brother, Dean shrugged. "Okay, Thidwick. What do you suggest we do next?"

Sam opened his mouth to reply but at that moment, something splattered on Dean's shoulder.

"Son of a bitch! Damn pigeons!" Dean pulled out a tissue to wipe away what he thought was pigeon poo but then he saw that it was actually a bright green blob that had landed on his jacket. "Ack! What the hell?"

A bigger blob landed on top of the Thidwick statue. A second later, another one splattered on the ground close by.

"What the hell is this?" Dean asked, ducking instinctively. "Ectoplasm?"

As more and more globs began to rain down on them, Sam ran out of the sculpture park, across the street and then hid under the awning of the closest store.

Dean followed in hot pursuit. Once they were both safe, he stared in disbelief at the chaos in their vicinity. "Seriously, Sam. What is this?"

Sam looked at the storm of sticky, bright green globs and all the people who ran for cover. Cars were screeching to a stop when a gigantic dollop landed in the middle of an intersection, splattering the vehicles. A dog was barking at a puddle of the green goo while a mother tried to stop her small child from jumping into the same puddle.

"We need to get back to the motel. You need to get on your laptop and find us something we can use against this...this..." Dean waved his hand at the green rain.

"Oobleck." Sam grinned excitedly. "That's Oobleck."

Dean closed his eyes for a long moment. "Don't tell me. More Dr. Seuss nonsense."

"Yeah. Remember that story about King Derwin of Didd and his page boy Bartholomew Cubbins? Bartholomew was also one of my favorites."

Dean did remember. "Yeah, because he was a smart-aleck."

Sam gave his brother a quick glare. "Bartholomew was smart enough to know how to stop the Oobleck. He was wise, not a smart-aleck." He looked around searchingly. "Someone must've wished for something new to fall from the sky, just like King Derwin. See anyone suspicious?"

Dean looked as well but only saw frightened or slightly hysterical people. "Whoever it is must be hiding." He began to walk down the street--thankfully, all stores in that block had awnings so he was safe from getting drenched in green goo--and continued to search for a suspect.

Sam followed close by. "Well, in the book it was King Derwin who said the magic words to make the Oobleck stop."

"Magic words? Like what, abracadabra?"

"Shuffle Duffle Muzzle Muff."

Dean gave Sam a quick side-eye. "Bless you." He looked out into the street where a car barely managed to swerve around a puddle of goo that had dropped out of the sky right in front of it. "Also? Not working."

"Those weren't the correct magic words," Sam replied. "Bartholomew figured out that the king shouldn't say some fancy nonsense words his magicians put into his mouth. He was supposed to apologize."

"Apologize?"

"Yeah." Sam looked up at the sky and said loudly, "I'm sorry."

"Dude, you're not the king of anything. That's not how it wor--" Dean snapped his mouth shut when he realized that it had stopped raining green goo. "Okay then."

Sam continued to stare at the sky for another moment, but only saw bright sunshine and fluffy white clouds. "Huh." His gaze dropped to the street signs of the intersection they were heading toward, and he chuckled.

"What's so funny?

"Mulberry Street and Bliss Street." Sam pointed at the street signs, grinning at his brother. " _And that is a story that no one can beat, and to think that I saw it on Mulberry Street._ "

Dean just gave him a blank look.

"Remember Marco, the kid who went fishing in McElligot's Pond? There's another book about him where he comes up with all kinds of things on his way home from school. He imagines a big parade and an airplane dropping confetti and a man with a ten-foot beard. And it all starts at the intersection of Mulberry and Bliss Street." He pointed at the street signs again.

Dean gave his brother another look that clearly stated he thought Sam was beyond weird for knowing all this stuff, but all he said was, "Would've preferred confetti to that green goo stuff."

"You're an idiot, Dean." Sam turned around a corner but then stopped so abruptly that Dean literally ran into him.

"What the hell, dude?"

Sam didn't say anything; instead, he just pointed at a huge dollop of green goo where they had parked the Impala.

"My Baby!"

*****

[ ](http://ic.pics.livejournal.com/sinfulslasher/6185781/482997/482997_original.jpg)

Dean kept muttering under his breath the whole drive back to their motel. He was leaning across the steering wheel, squinting out of the windshield--the small part of the windshield that the wipers had managed to clean off the Oobleck, at least. The damn green goo proved to be terribly sticky so that the Impala remained covered with it, no matter how fast Dean drove.

"I swear to you, Sam, I'll find out who's responsible for all this and then I'm gonna gank the son of a bitch."

"Because the car is covered in Oobleck?"

"Yes!" Dean couldn't believe that his brother didn't see the problem.

"You know, I think I saw a car wash a few blocks back..."

"Are you kidding me?" Dean was outraged. He shook his head. "Seriously, dude, what's wrong with you?" He caressed the steering wheel lovingly. "Don't listen to him, Baby. I'd never do that to you. Car wash. Phwt."

Sam rolled his eyes at Dean's ridiculous behavior. "Fine. Have it your way."

They finally made it to their motel and Sam saw someone entering one of the rooms with a stack of clean towels. A cart with cleaning supplies stood in front of the open door.

"Hey, maybe you could ask the staff for some cleaning supplies."

Dean gave his brother a quick sideways glance. As if he'd let some unknown, no-name cleaning stuff anywhere near his Baby.

The person came back out of the motel room, dirty towels in his arms. "Hey, it's that weird-ass receptionist," Dean exclaimed, parking in front of their room. Then he frowned. "Or maybe not."

"Why? Do you think there's more than one blue-haired young man wearing red jumpsuits working at this motel?" Sam asked, chuckling. He was clearly impressed by the man's look.

"Well, the guy in the office had a big 1 on his front. This one's got a 2. See?" Dean pointed. "Unless he's got seven identical outfits, one for each day of the week. You know, kinda like those underpants with the weekdays on them? Except there's never a Sunday in these packs. Bet you didn't know that." Dean smirked, clearly pleased with himself for being able to share this tidbit of information.

But Sam didn't even seem to listen. "You said the guy in the office had a big 1 on the front of his jumpsuit?" When Dean nodded, Sam began to smile broadly. "Then that's Thing One and Thing Two," he exclaimed. "They're two characters from The Cat in the Hat book. They caused mischief by flying kites in the house and knocking down everything in their path." He grinned excitedly at Dean.

"And that's supposed to impress me how?"

Sam shrugged. "Well, it's another clue. More Dr. Seuss stuff. You know?" He waved at Thing Two who seemed oblivious to the brothers' discussion and instead pushed the cart toward the office.

"Well, if they're causing mischief, maybe all of this is their fault?" Dean waved one hand around vaguely, encompassing the Oobleck-covered Impala, the city of Springfield and probably the entire world. "How can we stop them?"

"In the book, one of the characters, Conrad, was able to stop the Things with a net." Sam frowned. "I doubt they're causing any of this though, Dean. I'm pretty sure they're part of the whole case."

"Well, I'm not gonna run after some weird lookin' dudes with a butterfly net or whatever," Dean said decisively. "So we're back to square one. Research." He waved at their motel room. "Let's go."

They exited the car, Dean glaring daggers at the green goo covering his beloved Baby, when a soft, lilting voice said, "You are Sam."

Dean whipped his head around and stared in total disbelief at a fox that was sitting in front of their motel room door, its long tail curled around its sock-covered front paws. Then he heard his brother's amused reply of, "Yes. Sam, I am."

"Dude. What did I tell you?"

Sam shrugged. "I just answered a question." He looked at the fox, equal parts amused and fascinated. "And while I like ham, I'm not fond of green eggs, in case you were wondering."

"Dude!"

The fox tilted its head to one side, as if contemplating Sam's answer, and then turned to look at Dean. "And you must be Dean. Your car looks pretty, all covered in green."

"Okay, that's it." Dean slammed the front door closed hard enough to rattle the car. He pointed an angry finger at the fox. "You will _not_ talk to me, you freak of nature."

"Dean..."

"No, Sam. It's a damn talking fox! Wearing socks! Telling me Baby looks good in green! I don't even..." He trailed off, throwing his hands in the air. "I'm done with this crap."

"Maybe he's trying to give us some hints. The Fox in the Socks _is_ another Seuss character, after all."

Dean just stared at his brother in disbelief. "I don't even know you anymore," he finally muttered. "I'll be in our room. _Researching._ "

And he stalked past the fox to their motel room, opened the door and purposefully strode in.

He could hear Sam talking with the fox but didn't listen to what they were rhyming about. Instead, he stared in shock at the room divider and the damn Sneetches that would, he was sure, haunt him in his dreams until the day he died.

"Uh, Sam?"

After a few seconds, his brother walked into the room. "What?"

"We have another problem."

"Yeah? Like what?" Sam looked around but didn't see anything. When he realized that Dean was pointing at the room divider, he walked over to take a closer look. "What the hell?"

"Yeah."

Sam stared at his brother in disbelief. "That's a devil's trap on the Sneetch's belly."

"And pentagrams and sigils and what I think are Enochian letters." Dean waved at the room divider. "Maybe it's a dirty limerick in Enochian. We could ask Cas but I don't want to call him." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'm sure Seuss wrote about an angel in one of his more obscure books and some obnoxious rugrat like Mario or Bartholomew got bored and imagined how the angel would turn into a ten foot tall grasshopper or something. I really don't want that to happen to Cas."

Sam just continued to stare at Dean. "You're losing it, dude," he finally just muttered. "There are no angels in any of Dr. Seuss' books. But yeah, no need to call Cas." He looked at the Sneetches again. "How did you see that so quickly?" The drawings on the Sneetches' bellies were small enough to be unobtrusive. Unless you looked very closely at the room divider, it would be impossible to see the difference.

"I'm a hunter, Sam. I've faced danger on a daily basis since I was a little kid. My instincts are always on high alert. I see everything, I hear everything. I'm a ninja."

Sam just raised an eyebrow, looking unimpressed by Dean's little speech.

After a second, Dean's hero pose deflated. "They light up when they change," he admitted grudgingly, pointing at the room divider.

When Sam turned to look again, one of the Sneetches indeed lit up brightly for a second, and the star on its belly now looked like a devil's trap. It even had bleeding demon eyes, which looked horribly disturbing on a Sneetch in Sam's opinion. "Huh."

"Guess your damn fox might be able to give us some intel, after all." Dean sighed and walked back outside, but the fox was nowhere to be seen anymore. "Damn it."

Sam came to a stop next to Dean. "Now what?" He pulled a face. "Up till now it was nothing but fun and games based on Dr. Seuss' books, but the symbols on the Sneetches' bellies..."

"Yeah." Dean grimaced as well. "Heaven and Hell. Angels and demons." He looked at Sam. "So, uh... Cas?"

But Sam didn't reply. Instead, he stared past Dean to the far end of the building. "Uh, Dean?"

"Yeah. So, what do you think? Should we call Cas?"

"Dean." Sam's tone of voice grew frantic.

"What?" Dean frowned but then realized that Sam was staring at something. He turned around to look as well. "Aww, a doggy."

"Dude, no. That's a hellhound."

Dean snorted. Granted, the dog was easily the size of a calf, all packed muscle and black fur, but the face was one of the cutest he had ever seen on a dog. Its tongue lolled out as it began to pant and it gave a big, friendly doggy grin. Its tail wagged excitedly. "No hellhound looks like that, Sam. Besides, you can't actually _see_ hellhounds, and this dog is totally _there_."

"It's a hellhound," Sam replied stubbornly.

"It's a cute doggy with something weird on its head," Dean shot back, pointing.

"You mean the big horn?"

"Yeah."

"If I can't find a reindeer, I'll make one instead," Sam quoted.

"Huh?"

"The Grinch. He took his dog Max and some black thread, and he tied a big horn on the top of his head." Sam gestured. "Is this supposed to be Hell's version of a reindeer?"

"It's not a hellhound," Dean said stubbornly.

At that moment, the perceived dog's eyes began to glow red.

"The hell..." Dean had no idea what to do.

"Told you."

"Dude. We can see a hellhound."

"Yeah."

"And the hellhound can see us but...doesn't attack?"

"Yeah."

The hellhound barked once, shaking the entire building in the process, and then danced on its front paws.

"Does it want us to go to it?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, that's not gonna happen."

The hellhound barked again and looked expectantly to its side, around the corner of the building. It took a couple of steps in that direction, then turned around to look at the brothers and bark again.

"Maybe we should follow, just to see where it wants us to go."

"It's a hellhound, Sam. It will lead us to hell."

The hellhound barked again, now looking demanding, and danced on the spot impatiently.

"Ah, what the hell." Dean pulled out a large knife and began to walk toward the hellhound. "Wouldn't be the first time the Winchesters end up in hell, right?"

Sam chuckled nervously but followed his brother.

He was grateful for the gun in his hand.

*****

[ ](http://ic.pics.livejournal.com/sinfulslasher/6185781/483092/483092_original.jpg)  


They walked around the motel building and then trekked along a winding path that led them up a hill.

Sam was a bit surprised by the shrubbery surrounding them, since the motel wasn't exactly in a remote or rural area, but he obediently followed his brother, who was only a few steps behind the hellhound.

Except that his curiosity got the best of him after a couple of minutes, and he took a closer look around. When he glanced back, however, Sam was shocked to discover that the motel was gone. Actually, all of the surrounding buildings were gone. It looked as if the brothers had been trekking through an uninhabited valley for endless hours.

"Uh, Dean?"

"What?"

Sam looked at his brother, only to realize that Dean kept his eyes trained on the hellhound.

Not that Sam could blame him, really.

"Dean? Dude, turn around and look. Something's wrong."

"You mean other than a visible hellhound dressed like a reindeer?" Dean snarked but then obediently did as Sam asked. His eyes widened in alarm.

"This isn't Springfield," Sam said urgently, waving one hand downhill to what looked like wasteland. "The motel is gone."

"My Baby is gone!" Dean hyperventilated, one hand clutching his chest. "First the green goo and now this?" He began to run back down the path but stopped when the angry warning growl of the hellhound rendered through the air.

"I think it wants us to continue following," Sam said.

"Ya think, Sherlock?" Dean clutched his knife, clearly frustrated and in need of stabbing something or someone. "You do know this is all your fault, right? You dragged us here," he muttered angrily as he passed Sam again on his way to where the hellhound was waiting.

Sam just raised his arms helplessly.

*****

[ ](http://ic.pics.livejournal.com/sinfulslasher/6185781/483537/483537_original.jpg)  


They continued on the winding path until the hellhound suddenly began to pick up its pace and rounded a large boulder.

Dean immediately began to jog after the beast but when he turned around the corner, the hellhound was gone. "What the hell?"

Sam came running around the boulder as well and promptly bumped into Dean from behind. "Where's the hellhound?"

"No idea." Dean looked around for a few seconds and then carefully continued down the path, looking left and right, holding on tight to his knife.

Sam clutched his gun and trained it at anything that looked even remotely suspicious.

After rounding another large boulder and walking a few feet, the brothers suddenly found themselves at a strange crossroads.

Crudely written road signs pointed in different directions. Except for one sign that supposedly led to purgatory, all other signs told them clearly that it wasn't a good idea to continue.

"Abandon all hope?" Sam read out loud, his eyes wandering down the indicated path.

"Better than this way," Dean replied, pointing at a big "No!" sign.

"Why did the hellhound lead us here when we should go back?" Sam waved at a sign that pointed in the direction where they had just come from. It clearly stated to "Go back!" and Sam was all for it.

"No freakin' clue, man." Dean looked around searchingly. A second later, he jumped in shock when a new creature materialized in front of him out of thin air, with a loud bang and a cloud of white smoke. "What the hell?"

Sam stared as well at the green creature with white horns, wearing a red hat. "The Grinch," he whispered in disbelief, more to himself than anyone else.

"What?" Dean looked from the creature to Sam and back again. "You gotta be kiddin' me."

"Indeed I am," the creature said, inclining its head. "Grinch, I am called. Don't look so appalled."

Dean's eyes just widened and he waved his knife threateningly in the creature's direction.

The Grinch, however, didn't seem intimidated, frightened or insulted. Quite the contrary, a big grin spread across the green face. "Ah, the Winchester boys at last. This is going to be a blast." A second later, the Grinch held a piece of paper in his hand. While the text itself was very small and hard to decipher, the headline - DEAL - was easy enough to read.

Dean immediately snorted derisively.

"My dearest Squirrel, my darling Moose, I have an offer you can't refuse." The Grinch waved the paper under Dean's nose, and an old-fashioned pen, dripping with ink, suddenly appeared out of nowhere, held securely by the Grinch's tail.

Sam immediately frowned. "Wait a minute."

Dean frowned as well and shared a quick look with his brother. "There's only one bastard who uses those names," he growled.

Sam nodded. "I can hear the faintest trace of Scottish accent," he added and then narrowed his eyes at the Grinch. "Care to show your real face?"

The Grinch gave a put-upon sigh. "You are no fun," he grumbled. "I guess I should run."

And, with an impressive poof of smoke, the Grinch disappeared, leaving Crowley in his place.

"Hello, boys." Crowley smiled brightly at the brothers, holding the contract in one hand while his other hand was playing with the pen. The red hat the Grinch had been wearing was still on his head.

"Crowley." Dean's death glare could have felled lesser man. "What the hell are you playin' at?"

"What, the King of Hell can't have some innocent fun with his best friends?"

"You call that fun?" Dean waved his knife in the general direction of where they had come from. "Killing or injuring people? Causing havoc? Making my Baby disappear?!"

"Did anyone ever tell you that you have a rather unhealthy relationship with that car?" Crowley shook his head, looking concerned.

"Don't try to deflect, Crowley. My brother asked a damn good question."

"Moody Moose." Crowley chuckled to himself but then stopped when he realized that the Winchesters just glared daggers at him. "Fine. I got bored. Managing Hell can be bloody tedious. Making crossroads deals is horribly boring unless you spice things up a little. I haven't been a crossroads demon in quite a while but I like to slum it occasionally. Go back to basics, so to speak. Reconnect with the people in the trenches. I was wondering how long it would take until one of the tormented souls down there would come to me to make a deal. To make me stop torturing them with this Dr. Seuss nonsense." He grinned evilly.

"You're such a bastard," Dean muttered, shaking his head. Then he looked at his brother. "What do you think, Sam?"

But Sam seemed to be lost in thought. He looked into the distance, frowning slightly.

"Sam? Hey, Sammy." Dean snapped his fingers in front of his brother's face.

Sam startled slightly at that and blinked, then focused on Dean. "Huh? Oh. Yeah." He cleared his throat and narrowed his eyes suspiciously at Crowley. "I'm not buying it."

"Buying what? I've got nothing to sell. I've only got something to offer." Crowley's grin grew impossibly wider and he waved the contract under Sam's nose. "Are you buying, Moose?"

Sam turned to his brother, completely ignoring Crowley. "It doesn't make any sense," he said. "Why would Crowley do any of this?" He waved in the general direction of where Springfield was supposed to be. "Why go to such lengths? In hopes of snatching a soul or two?" He snorted derisively. "This set up is way too elaborate for someone like Crowley."

"Hey!"

Neither Winchester paid the King of Hell any attention though. "You're right," Dean said after a long moment. "Something doesn't add up here." He gave Crowley a quick sideways glance before looking at Sam again. "But how else do you explain all this?"

Sam scratched his temple and then pushed a lock of hair behind his ear--one of the very few tells Dean knew that showed his brother was nervous or unsure. "If I didn't know better," he began hesitantly but then trailed off.

"Better than what?"

"He's dead, Dean."

Dean frowned in confusion. "Who is?"

"The only person who would pull off this sort of elaborate prank just for the heck of it." Sam gave Crowley a long, piercing look.

Dean continued to frown. "I'm not following."

"Who's got the power to change reality like that, Dean? Create different realities, really? All the while pulling pranks, preferably to teach his victims some kind of lesson, though I have no idea which lessons our victims here needed to be taught." Sam continued to stare at Crowley while speaking, but he sensed the very moment his brother caught on.

"You mean the Trickster?" Dean stared at Crowley. "But this isn't the Trickster. It's Crowley. The Trickster-- _Gabriel_ \--got killed by Lucifer, remember?"

"Oh my dearest Dean-O." Crowley stretched himself. "The report of my death was an exaggeration." He smirked and began to shimmer. After a few seconds, Crowley had transformed into the creature they once knew as the Trickster, as the Archangel Gabriel. He smiled brightly at Sam. "You've always been my favorite, Sammy-boy. So smart. Smart and sexy. Totally my type." He adjusted the Grinch's red hat so it was at a rakish angle and then waggled his eyebrows.

Both Sam and Dean just gawked.

"But you're dead," Dean insisted.

"Well, I _was_ dead. I just didn't _stay_ dead." Gabriel smirked. "You make it sound as if death is a permanent thing. Remind me again, how many times have you died until now? Over a hundred, right?"

"Yeah, and for the most part, thanks to you," Dean growled, advancing threateningly.

Gabriel just grinned and snapped his fingers, forcing Dean to stay rooted to the spot, completely immobilized. Then he continued conversationally, "So, as I was saying, death really isn't a permanent thing. I've enjoyed being back amongst you mere mortals for a while now. Not that _I'm_ a mere mortal, of course."

"Of course," Sam muttered. He waved at his brother. "Do you mind?"

"Hmm? Oh. Sure." Gabriel snapped his fingers again and Dean stumbled forward, no longer immobilized. He wisely decided against attacking Gabriel, but he did make his displeasure known just the same.

"If you've been alive for however long, why the hell didn't you tell us? I mean, we really could've used your help, you know? Archangel mojo is strong mojo."

Gabriel chuckled. "You've always been a jokester, Dean-O. Come on, you know I'd get smited the very second a certain faction of the celestial kind learns that I'm still around. No. I had to keep a low profile." He leaned in and whispered conspiratorially, "And do you have any idea how damn boring that is? Keeping a low profile?" He threw his hands up in mock despair.

"You call that low profile?" Sam asked in disbelief, waving behind him to the city of Springfield--or where it was supposed to be, at least, because Gabriel had seemingly made at least parts of it disappear.

"This particular incident? No." Gabriel crossed his arms. "But I'll have you know that I've been playing pranks from the west coast to the east coast for the last year or so, and I wasn't even a blip on your radar." He touched his nose knowingly and waggled his eyebrows. "Low profile enough to avoid the famous Winchester gut? I'd say that's a damn low profile." He looked particularly pleased with himself.

Sam and Dean just shared a look.

After a long moment, Dean pointed an accusing finger. "You're telling me that you've been messing with people for a year now?"

"A little more than, yeah." Gabriel grinned. "I even dropped by near your bunker a few months back. Dreadfully gray place, by the way. Could use a little color."

Dean stared in complete disbelief at Gabriel while Sam was trying to remember any unusual deaths in the vicinity of their home.

"But I digress. No wonder, though. Chatting with you guys, it's like catching up with old pals. Right?" Gabriel smacked Dean's upper arm in a friendly manner.

Dean scowled darkly in response.

"So, what gave me away this time?" Gabriel looked openly curious. "Was it the number of weird accidents in one town? Because up till now I kept to one prank per town. You know, low profile and all that."

"What you call weird accidents we call murder," Dean growled, raising his knife again. He knew it wouldn't actually do any harm but he needed to do _something_.

Gabriel looked at the knife, chuckled in obvious amusement and then snapped his fingers. Dean's knife turned into a candy bar, which Gabriel promptly stole. "Thanks, bucko," he mumbled around a mouthful of chewy chocolate treat.

Dean scowled darkly again.

Sam laid a calming hand on his brother's shoulder and tried to steer the conversation back to the matter at hand. "In the past, you only targeted people who deserved what was coming to them. But the victims here? They're innocent."

Gabriel snorted. "Innocent? For being fake Feds, you're not very good at this investigation thing, are you?"

Dean's eyes narrowed. Research was more Sam's forte, but if someone insulted his brother, they also insulted him. "Enlighten us."

"Well, let's see..." Gabriel pretended to think hard, tapping his finger against his chin. "Asshole number one--"

"Whose heart was so big, it gave out," Sam interrupted.

"That would be the one. He cheated on his wife. Constantly. Which, you know, I could probably even understand. I mean, I'm not made for just one partner either." He waggled his eyebrows. When neither Winchester reacted in any way, Gabriel sighed and continued. "The thing that pissed me off was that he was spreading STDs. Knowingly. He claimed he was single, found willing men and women for one-night stands, insisted on doing it without protection, and managed to infect dozens of people. And we're not talking about some silly disease that's treatable with antibiotics, if you know what I mean."

"Son of a bitch," Dean muttered, looking disgusted.

"Sooo...I figured if the guy has room in his heart for so many people, it should grow...and grow...and grow... You know, until..." He made an exploding gesture with his hands and then fake-choked to death, clutching his chest.

"Okay, the guy deserved it," Sam admitted reluctantly.

Gabriel beamed, pleased with what he considered praise. "And just for the record, I healed every single one of the man's victims. They're healthier than ever before."

"Okay, Mr. Good Samaritan, that still doesn't explain the spiders in the brain thing." Dean shuddered at the mere thought again.

"Oh. Well, that one is easy. Bastard liked to torture animals, and we really can't have that, can we? I don't wanna go into any details but very slow and painful deaths were involved for dozens of animals. If mankind wants to kill itself, fine. Hurt innocent animals and all bets are off." Gabriel looked genuinely enraged.

Dean, who was way more pragmatic than his animal loving brother, thought about this for a long moment and then decided it was a very just punishment. "I hope you planted those spiders in his brain while the bastard was still alive."

Gabriel immediately beamed again. "You betcha."

Sam, who looked a little green around the gills, managed to ask, "And the seahorse incident?"

"You mean di Angelo?"

"Yeah. He seemed like such a straight-laced accountant."

"He embezzled money from the sporting goods store he's working for. And then he gambled it all away at the race tracks." Gabriel munched on the last bit of candy bar. "Now, don't get me wrong. I don't mind gambling. You want to ruin yourself, lose all of your money with bets, go right ahead. But ruining innocent others who trust you with their business? It's a family-owned store. Third generation. These people work hard. They don't deserve to lose everything because the accountant they trust steals their money." Gabriel shrugged. "So I figured being attacked by a horse would be poetic justice."

"A seahorse," Sam corrected.

"A horse/seahorse hybrid," Gabriel replied with a grin.

"Man, I really like your style," Dean admitted reluctantly. He shook his head, chuckling to himself. "This is almost as good as that slow dancing alien years ago."

"Ain't it?" Gabriel beamed, looking pleased with himself.

"But how did you come up with the punishments?" Sam asked.

"Aww, don't play coy, Sammy, my boy. You know exactly where I got my inspiration from." Gabriel spread his arms wide. "Dr. Seuss, of course!"

"Yeah, I figured it out." Sam smiled, despite himself. "But how do you know Dr. Seuss?"

"The man's a genius!" Gabriel's entire body vibrated with excitement. "I mean, I can only read so many editions of News of the World for inspiration, right? So I started to branch out. Looked at the classics but they were pretty boring. Moved to temporary bestsellers and struck gold for a while. The Hunger Games books were perfect inspiration for my little pranks. Did you ever read the Twilight books? Barely readable but I had so much fun using sparkly vampires to scare people. Then I came across Dr. Seuss' books and..." He mimed his head exploding. "What a brilliant genius. I was in the neighborhood and decided to check out his birthplace. Then I found out about the bastards who were in dire need of a lesson and voila. I had the perfect source of inspiration."

"I doubt Seuss meant for his books to be inspiration for murder," Dean deadpanned.

Gabriel shrugged. "Let the punishment fit the crime, right? And I was done. Ready to skip town. I swear." He held up his hands. "But then you two yahoos showed up and I knew I had to stick around and mess with you a little. For old time's sake, you know?" He smirked.

"Wait." Sam frowned. "So all the craziness that surrounded us was... _for us_?"

Gabriel grinned. "Yup."

"The Sneetches?"

"Are actually ducks. And I mean seriously, who uses ducks as decoration in a motel room?" Gabriel rotated a finger next to his temple and rolled his eyes.

"The hellhound?" Dean asked.

"Oh, that one I made up. It's not a real dog I transformed or anything. You know I'm an animal lover." Gabriel pressed a hand to his heart. "I just thought a Seussian hellhound would be a surefire way to lead you here, to li'l ol' me."

Dean snorted.

"What about Thing One and Thing Two? Back at the motel?" Sam asked.

"They're actual twins, the sons of the motel owner. Good boys." Gabriel held up a hand when he saw Sam opening his mouth. "No harm was done, I solemnly swear. They never realized I transformed them. Neither did anyone else. I just altered the reality to make everyone believe it was perfectly normal that the boys looked like that." He chuckled. "I mean, once I knew you two chuckleheads were here, I had to add little details to make it more fun. Like changing the street names near the Sculpture Park. There's no actual intersection called Mulberry Street and Bliss Street in Springfield. And the lake where di Angelo got attacked isn't actually called McElligot's Pool. Right now, everyone just believes it to be true." Gabriel beamed, pleased with himself.

Dean rolled his eyes at what he perceived as childish antics but then frowned. "Hey, wait a minute." He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "That god-awful green goo. That's also your doing." It wasn't a question, it was a statement.

"But of course!" Gabriel threw his arms wide. "In fact, the Oobleck was specifically for you, Dean-o. And I gotta tell ya, your reaction when you saw your car all covered with it? Priceless!"

Dean's hands scrabbled around the inside of his jacket and along his waistline, frantically looking for a weapon. "You are a dead man," he threatened.

Gabriel snapped his fingers, immobilizing Dean again, and shook his head in mock sorrow. "Dean, Dean, Dean. Remember what Crowley told you a few minutes ago? Well, granted, it was actually me, but still. You really do have a very unhealthy relationship with your car. It's just Oobleck. You can wash it off, you know?"

"Make it disappear or I will end you," Dean growled through clenched teeth.

"You want me to make the Impala disappear?" Gabriel asked innocently, raising his hand to snap his fingers. He waited until Dean had a full-blown conniption fit and then made a calming gesture. "When you get back to the motel, your silly car will be waiting for you right in front of your room, shiny and black."

It took Dean a few seconds to calm down but he finally managed a slight nod--his head being the only part of his body that wasn't immobilized. "Okay."

"Great. That's settled then." Gabriel snapped his fingers and Dean could move again.

"You do realize that we should gank you, right?" Dean asked.

"Probably. But you won't." Gabriel sounded very convinced.

"If we ever need your help and call for you, you'll come." Sam sounded just as convinced. It wasn't a request, it was an order.

Gabriel narrowed his eyes. "What part of low profile didn't you understand?"

"We promise it'll be a last resort kind of thing. But having an Archangel as secret weapon is something we can't pass up."

Gabriel thought about Sam's words for a few moments. "Aww, you sweet talker, you. Thing is, I've always said I'd stay out of the family feud and I really managed to do that for millennia. Then that one time I decided to help you guys, I got smited, and by my own brother, no less. So you'll understand my reluctance..." Gabriel heaved a huge sigh and then threw his arms in the air. "Ah, what the hell, right? Keeping a low profile _is_ boring. I'm in." He grinned.

"And you change everything back to normal back there," Dean added, gesturing behind him to the town. "Not just the Impala."

"Okay, fine."

"But _especially_ the Impala."

Gabriel rolled his eyes. "Seriously, Dean-o. Unhealthy relationship. You should seek professional help." Before Dean could reach out and strangle him, Gabriel snapped his fingers and the crossroads they were standing on changed to a normal path. "There. The town's back to normal."

"Good." Dean looked over his shoulder and could see the motel again in the distance. He nodded, pleased. "Oh, one more thing: No more traipsing around the west coast or the east coast or anywhere in between, wreaking havoc as Trickster."

"Aww, come on! What am I supposed to do all day?"

Dean narrowed his eyes threateningly.

"Okay, fine. Deal. No more traipsing around the west coast or the east coast or anywhere in between, wreaking havoc as Trickster. I solemnly swear."

And before either Sam or Dean could say anything, Gabriel snapped his fingers and the brothers found themselves back in their motel room.

Sam shook himself, trying to get rid of the weird tingly sensation crawling over his skin.

"I hate it whenever Cas zaps me places. This isn't much better," Dean groused, shaking himself as well.

Sam chuckled. "True." His eyes zeroed in on the room divider. Just like Gabriel had said, it was made out of rows upon rows of ducks. "No more Sneetches," he mumbled, trailing one hand along the ducks. He sounded a bit sad.

Dean had more pressing matters to attend to, though. "My Baby!" he exclaimed, rushing over to the window and pulling the curtains aside. There, parked gleaming in the afternoon sun, without a speck on her shiny black paint, was the Impala, as if waiting for her boys to climb in and drive to their next adventure.

Sam turned around and smiled at the besotted look on his brother's face. Identical twins were walking past their window at that moment, oblivious to the Winchesters. "Guess that was Thing One and Thing Two," Sam said. "Looks like everything's back to normal."

"Yeah." Dean looked over his shoulder at his brother. "Hey, Sam? Can we leave?"

"What, like right now?"

Dean nodded. "This place is giving me the creeps. Too much weird stuff happened here for my liking." At Sam's chuff of amusement, Dean glowered. "Give me werewolves and vampires any day. Green goo on my Baby and I'm out."

Sam chuckled but began to pack their stuff. "Okay, let's head home."

*****

Late the next morning--they had just passed Chicago--Dean was enthusiastically belting along to Lynyrd Skynyrd's "Simple Man" again when he was--quite rudely, he found--interrupted by Sam's exclamation of, "You've got to be kidding me!"

Dean sighed and turned down the volume. "I don't wanna hear it."

"Dude." Sam looked worried and pointed at his open laptop. "I think we have a problem."

"No." Dean shook his head adamantly. "We're halfway home. We don't have any problems."

"No, seriously." Sam tapped his laptop. "There are reports about things like flying cars and photos and paintings with people moving around in them. People flying around on broomsticks." He looked up. "I think someone discovered the Harry Potter books."

Dean slammed his hand against Baby's steering wheel. "Bastard's gonna get ganked, then I'll have Cas revive him just so I can gank him again. He _promised_ not to pull this shit anymore."

"Uh..." Sam cleared his throat. "Actually, you made him promise not to 'traipse around the west coast or the east coast or anywhere in between, wreaking havoc as Trickster'," he quoted.

"Yeah. So?"

Sam smiled nervously and pointed at his laptop again. "The reports are coming in from Great Britain." He gave his brother a sideways glance and asked hesitantly, "I know you're not a big fan of flying but... Fancy a trip to merry ol' England?"

Dean glowered straight ahead for several seconds. Then he took the next exit with screeching tires and brought Baby back on the interstate, this time heading back to Chicago and O'Hare.

"Son of a bitch!"

THE END

 ** _Additional surprise character:_** Gabriel/Trickster


End file.
